


Soft Spot

by Green



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Good Alpha Derek Hale, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Friendship, Mates Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25829254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/pseuds/Green
Summary: Peter is hurt defending Stiles. Derek tends the wound.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Peter Hale, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 87
Kudos: 882
Collections: Teen Wolf Bingo





	Soft Spot

**Author's Note:**

> No really, that's all there is to it. For my Hurt/Comfort square on Teen Wolf Bingo. Thanks to Twist for the title.

When everyone has left the loft, Peter hobbles over to the bathroom. Gingerly, he takes off his shirt — it's ruined, anyway. The slash in his skin is not so easily removed. He hisses as he touches it.

"You're not healing," Derek says from the door.

"I told you I was weakened," Peter says tiredly.

Maybe it's because he's hurt, or maybe it's because he couldn't come back with a snappy comeback, but Derek looks worried now. "Why fight, then?"

"I didn't do much," Peter says, and it's true. The monster they fought tonight — they still don't know what it is — was big and strong and fast. Peter held back from the fight for most oft he night, letting the betas and Derek do most of the heavy hitting.

"Until Stiles was in danger," Derek points out.

Derek must have seen the way Peter threw himself into the fight once Stiles was targeted. The boy — armed with nothing but a bat and his own stubbornness — hadn't stood a chance at that moment. 

Peter doesn't answer, just stares at the wound in the mirror.

"Why?" Derek presses.

"Why what?" Peter asks. "Why did I risk myself? Why did I protect Stiles? Why do I even hang around this pack anymore?"

The answer all boils down to one thing, but he's not about to reveal himself to Derek.

Derek sighs. "Sit down. I'll get the first aid kit."

"I'm a werewolf, I don't need band-aids."

"Shut up, Peter," Derek says, and something about the way he says it reminds Peter strongly of his sister. It's fondness and exasperation, not something Peter expected to be the recipient of again.

Peter sits on the toilet lid and sighs. He may as well let Derek do this. Maybe it will distract him from the first question of _Why_.

He expects a sting, but the peroxide just bubbles as Derek cleans his wound. The slash is long, crossing his heart in a diagonal from his shoulder to his side. It's not extremely deep, but it's deep enough. He realizes he doesn't hurt much because Derek is taking his pain.

"Why aren't you healing?" Derek asks quietly.

"I won't be at full capacity for some time," Peter says briskly. "Coming back from the dead isn't like being reborn. It's better than it was at first, though."

Derek looks up at him from where he's bent over Peter's wound. "You don't know for sure, do you?"

Peter hates being honest, but he might as well be. In this instance. "There's not a lot of documentation on the resurrection of werewolves."

"How did you know it would even work?" Derek asks.

"I didn't," Peter says. 

Derek sits back, an inscrutable look on his face. Usually, Peter can read him pretty well. Now? Not so much.

"I'm not sorry I killed you," Derek says. "You were out of control." But he says it so softly that his voice almost belies the words. 

"It was a regrettable circumstance. I-" Peter swallows the words. He's not sorry for getting revenge. He does wish he'd been a little more stable. But that's not his fault.

"I am sorry I had to do it, though," Derek goes on.

Peter knows he should try to twist this guilt to his own purposes. This is a perfect situation. He could ingratiate himself, he could benefit from this. And yet something holds his tongue.

Derek knows it, too. He looks wary, expecting something of the sort. Maybe he knows Peter too well. Better to keep him on his toes, then.

"We need to figure out what that monster is before it kills again," Peter says suddenly, changing the subject and attempting to break the mood. 

Derek nods and leans down, taking out the butterfly strips. He starts patching Peter's wound and Peter huffs. 

"I can do that myself."

"Easier this way. I can see it better than you," Derek murmurs.

It takes longer than it should, but Derek doesn't seem very skilled at nursing. Why would he be? But his fingertips are gentle as he can be while still getting the job done, and when he finishes with the strips he tries to put bandages over them. 

"That's not necessary," Peter says. 

Derek grumbles but grabs a washcloth. Peter doesn't know what he's doing until he starts wiping the blood he didn't already clean up before. 

"I can do that," Peter says, reaching for the washcloth. Their fingers touch. Derek doesn't snatch his hand away. It's progress. "But thank you. For playing nurse."

Derek snorts. "I'd do it for any packmate."

It's the first time he's said, indirectly or not, that Peter is still pack. He seems to realize it, too. He stands and lets Peter have the washcloth.

They both turn toward a sound. They heard it at the same time, the elevator opening. Then, there's a faint, "Hello?" in a familiar voice.

Derek looks at Peter with a raised eyebrow. Peter shakes his head. He has no idea why Stiles would be coming back.

Derek gets up and strides into the main room. Peter turns and looks in the mirror, wiping up the dried blood he sees on his chest and shoulder. There's no shirt to put on over the patch-job, so he walks out like that to search for something to put on.

"I wanted to see Peter," Stiles is saying, and then Peter can feel his gaze. Quickly assessing, cataloging his injury, mind working fast behind those narrowed eyes.

"You've seen me," Peter says. 

"You saved my life tonight," Stiles says. "Don't think I didn't notice."

Peter shrugs and it pulls at the bandages. He tries to hide his wince, but Stiles sees it.

"You're not healing?" Stiles asks, walking closer, hand hovering in the air like he wants to touch but isn't sure if he should.

"I am, just slowly," Peter says. 

"But you already knew. You knew you weren't up to full werewolf capacity, and yet you stepped in front of me anyway," Stiles says. 

"It would have killed you," Peter says, throat suddenly dry.

Stiles glances at Derek, then focuses on Peter again. "I thought our Alpha was the one with the martyr complex."

Peter's tired. He isn't up to facing all his emotional pitfalls right now, and Stiles is a major soft spot for him. More than anyone knows, though he thinks Derek is beginning to suspect.

"Why?" Stiles asks.

Peter tries to twist the subject. "Are you saying you'd rather I left you to be sliced open?"

"No, I just want to know why you care."

"I've told you before, Stiles. I like you."

"That's no reason to risk yourself to save me," Stiles presses. "Liking someone isn't… You can't…" He sounds frustrated and confused but Peter can't tell him the truth. 

"You're pack, Stiles," Derek says. "Any of us would have done the same thing. Peter was just quicker."

"Peter wasn't even in the fight until then," Stiles points out.

Dammit. The boy is too perceptive.

But Peter knows if he tells him the truth, the result will be disastrous. Stiles is young, human — not yet completely comfortable with the supernatural. Oh, he's taken to it better than some of the betas, even. But he'd likely reject what Peter could tell him at this point.

Peter has to be patient.

"You're not going to explain more than that, are you?" Stiles asks flatly.

Peter smiles. "There's nothing to explain, sweetheart. I was in the right place at the right time."

Stiles looks at his chest. "And you got injured for it."

Peter shrugs, winces again.

"Does it hurt a lot?" Stiles asks.

"Nah," Peter says.

"When will it heal?" Stiles asks.

Peter waves his hand. "Whenever. It shouldn't take too long."

Stiles sighs. "And we still don't know what the creature is."

"You two should start researching tomorrow. Once you've both gotten some rest," Derek says.

At that, Stiles gives a jaw-cracking yawn. Derek looks amused.

"Go home, Stiles," Peter says fondly.

Stiles steps closer to him and reaches out for real this time. He lets his hand brush over Peter's uninjured shoulder. Scent marking. "Okay. Thank you. I mean it."

Peter reaches out and touches Stiles's arm. Stiles meets his gaze and holds it. Time stands still. 

Peter's wolf howls with happiness. Stiles's heart beats faster, and Peter's speeds to match it.

Derek clears his throat and the moment is broken. Peter swears softly and steps away from Stiles.

"Go home, get some sleep. Long day tomorrow," Derek says.

Peter's looking forward to a day alone with Stiles, just the two of them, even if it's just poring over books and a shared laptop. "Until tomorrow, sweetheart."

Stiles gives a reluctant smile. "Okay." He steps out of the loft with his bag slung over his shoulder. Derek and Peter both listen for the elevator to descend. 

Then Derek turns to Peter. "You're in love with him." The words aren't accusing, surprisingly enough. Just stating the fact.

And Peter puts his cards on the table, at least to his Alpha. "He's my mate."

Derek looks at him for a long time. Peter steadies himself, waits for the 'he's too young' or 'you can't be sure' reactions. But they don't come. Instead, Derek huffs. And then his lips twitch. And then... well.

Then Derek is laughing. He's bent in half, laughing his ass off. "Oh, god. This. This is going to be so…" He can't finish his sentence, he's laughing so hard.

Peter isn't sure if he should be offended by the laughter or happy to hear it come out of his nephew, someone who rarely laughs anymore. 

"I'm so pleased my predicament humors you," Peter says dryly.

Derek grins. It brightens his eyes, his whole face. It reminds Peter of the boy he used to be, the man he should have become. Maybe there's still hope.

Peter can't help but smile back.

"When are you telling him?" Derek asks.

"When I'm sure he won't reject the idea out of hand," Peter says.

"Be careful," Derek says.

"Aren't you going to warn me not to hurt him? Or tell me he's too young?" Peter asks.

"He's your mate," Derek says simply. "It will work out. Your biggest obstacle is probably the sheriff. And Scott, of course."

Peter feels his lip curl involuntarily.

Derek huffs. "It won't matter, though. Stiles will be feeling a pull, too. Maybe not as strong as yours, but I doubt he'll be dissuaded once he's…"

"In love with me, you mean?" Peter asks. "I just-" He cuts himself off.

"You're worried it won't happen," Derek says.

"How much do we really know about mate bonds between werewolves and humans? Maybe he won't feel the same."

"Well, he's only 17. You have time."

"Not if he gets himself killed," Peter grumbles.

Derek looks away. Sighs. "I do what I can to keep him safe. I know you do, too."

"I offered him the bite once," Peter says wistfully. "I didn't realize he was my mate, but I think part of me knew. I needed to claim him."

"What happened?" Derek asks.

"He turned me down."

"And you let him?" Derek asks. It's a fair question. Peter hadn't been in his right mind at the time.

How does Peter explain? "The thought of turning him against his will was… repugnant to me."

"That makes sense," Derek says. He smiles again. "He really is your mate."

"But if he won't take the bite, that means we have to find another way to make him stronger," Peter muses. " _Safer_."

Derek places his hand on Peter's shoulder, a solid weight, reminding Peter they are pack again. "We will."


End file.
